The Druid of Hogwarts
by Phantom Drache
Summary: We all know Harry Potter was great at DADA and Neville was the best at Herbology. What if that were the other way around? Loosely inspired around the Druid class in Dungeons and Dragons, hence the title.
1. Chapter 1

**The Druid of Hogwarts**

 **by Phantom Drache**

 **Chapter 1: Planting the seeds**

 **~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~Druid~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

There exists a house located at Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, England. This is a completely normal house, which holds a completely normal family who all lead completely normal lives. At least, that is what Petunia and Vernon Dursley would like their neighbors to believe.

The truth is somehow far more intriguing and less pleasing than that though. The cause of this lay not in Petunia and Vernons son Dudley, but rather the fourth member of their family. The son of Petunias sister, Lily Potter-nee-Evans, one Harry Potter.

At the age of five, young Harry was a little short for his age, and definitely on the scrawny side of things. With black hair - that looked as though it had never seen a brush no matter what he or his aunt tried to do to it - bright green eyes, and somewhat baggy clothes, Harry looked a good fit for the 'emo' or 'goth' cliques in school.

Harry was not a part of either groups though, and his similarities in appearance were purely coincidental. His slim and petite figure - only accentuated by the baggy clothes - were because of a certain fact that the Dursleys would give anything to avoid having ousted: Harry was under-fed.

Now, were he ten years older, such afact might have been played off as a personal life choice he made, but at five - and especially when compared to his cousin who somewhat resembles a swine - anyone who looked closely enough at him would find cause for concern.

And as one looked closer and closer, the troubling signs only multiplied. Firstly, despite Vernon and Dudley being rather rotund figures, Harry was thin enough to nearly count as malnourished. Secondly, everything Dudley wore was brand-new, high-end designer clothing, while the best thing Harry wore looked to be three sizes too big and over a year old.

Thirdly, when the time came where most kids are given their very first chore in order to help them learn responsibility, Dudley was never given one while young Harry was told he had to keep the Dursley's extensive front and back yards in pristine condition.

Once more, if he was fifteen instead of five this might not have been an issue, but as he wasn't, it was hard work just to mow the grass. Harry had to mow the grass, pull any weeds, trim the bushes and trees, apply fertilizer, water the flowers, and make sure that everything was carefully arranged for the best appearance.

And as thanks for his efforts, Harry was rewarded with the bare minimum food required to make sure he didn't collapse, and a small cupboard under the stairs for a room. Should he ever miss one step or not perform to expectations, he was given even less food than normal and was given very stern 'lectures' on how useless he was, and how the Dursleys were doing him such a huge favor by taking care of him since his 'drunkard' parents died in a 'car-crash'.

Under normal circumstances, one would think that such horrible treatment of a child would be noticed fairly quickly, especially when young harry had offhandedly mentioned his home-life to no less than three elementary teachers who had inquired as to why he dressed and acted the way he did.

The fact that he had not actually known his own name was Harry Potter rather than 'boy' or 'freak' until his first day of school should also have tipped someone off. Sadly for the young man, there was one tiny detail that he didn't know of that was ensuring that his life did not change.

That detail was known as Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Headmaster of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, Order of Merlin First-Class, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot.

Yep, you read that correctly. The reason why Harry's life wasn't the best it could be was because of an old, magical man. And the term 'magical' is used in complete seriousness. In this reality, magic does in fact exist, and Hogwarts is renowned as the most premier (read: only) school for magic in England, and Harry's parents - Lily and a James Potter - were magic users.

The rest of Harry's story is known far and wide in the magical world. There was a Dark Lord known as Voldemort, who lead a racist siege on all magicals who didn't come from a family that was regarded as "pure-blood", which simply meant you could trace your family back several generations and only get magicals. For reasons only known to Dumbledore, Voldemort and a select few others, Voldemort attacked the Potter residence one night, only for something to go horribly wrong.

The house was partially destroyed, Lily and James were dead, and the only thing left of Voldemort were his wand - which was snapped according to the news - and a lightning bolt scar left on Harry's forehead, which the young lad typically kept hidden under the fringe of his hair.

Of course, what the news knew and what the truth was were two completely different stories. In truth, there was a prophecy that Dumbledore interpreted to mean that one of two boys were destined to defeat Voldemort. One happened to be young Harry Potter. Because of this, a series of events were sent on course to make Harry's life less than perfect, though the exact details of those decisions are only known to Dumbledore himself, and are neither here nor there at this time.

What is important at this point in time, is that one of those decisions made it so that no matter what occured, Harry Potter could not be removed from the Dursleys family home. And so, none of the signs were noticed by anyone who might do anything to help the young child.

When Harry noticed that no matter what happened to him nobody would come help, he retreated into himself. He found things to make his life bearable. Books were a good retreat every now and then, but when his grades pulled ahead of Dudleys due to the fact that the bigger kid seemed to not even know what a book was let lone how to read, Petunia and Vernon made it absolutely clear that out-doing Dudley was unacceptable. Harry spent a whole weekend living on a couple slices of bread and a glass of water for that.

And so he dropped his grades back down to an 'acceptable level', even if he did still occasionally find his way back to the library. Books didn't yell at him, or make him feel bad. Similar thoughts lead him to his second -and probably better for his sanity- retreat: the yard-work.

What was at first a punishment for simply existing became first a hobby, and then a large facet of who Harry was. Dudley, picking up on his parents dislike of his cousin, made school-life even harder by being a stereotypical bully, complete with goons who repeated whatever he said, and no other kids wanted to deal with Dudley, so Harry was alone most of the time at school.

His only safe place was the yards, and only because as much as Dudley enjoyed tormenting his cousin, not even his aunts love for him would save him if he messed up the yards while trying to mess up Harry's face. This meant Harry proceeded to spend the vast majority of his time in the yards, tending for the various plants.

After a few years of this, Harry slowly stopped speaking. Plants and books don't require him speak, and nobody outside of teachers and his family ever directed their voices to him, and so there was no need to keep talking. The Dursley adults liked when he was quiet, and this meant he got fed more often as they simply forgot to take away his food for random things outside of his control.

Another side-effect was that his figure, formerly pale and scrawny, slowly started to tan and bulk up thanks to the hard work. His hair also lengthened, and after a while it was long enough for him to tie into a loose ponytail. Oddly, his emerald eyes actually darkened over time, becoming closer to a forest green.

Animals also slowly started to take a liking to him, which lead to an interesting discovery on a dull spring afternoon during his 8th year of life. Vernon was at work at his drill company desk job, Petunia was out at some random home being her usual gossipy self, and Dudley had left to go hang out with his friends-slash-yes-men.

This left Harry alone with nothing but the plants and a few critters to keep him company. Harry normally didn't take much notice of the things that wandered into the garden, but today's guests included a garden snake, and he knew that Petunia had a weird thing against snakes. Deciding the at least give the thing fair warning, he opened his mouth, only for sounds that were definitely not english to fall out.

"[Hey, be careful not to be seen by the long-necked lady. She doesn't like snakes.]" Harry's eyes widen a little when instead of english, his words come out in a noise that any outsider knowledgeable in languages might call an odd mix between Gaelic and Welsh.

"{Ah, thank you Shaman. I had not expected to meet one of our kind here, though I appreciate the warning.}" The snakes response, equally unexpected, came in the form of hissing that Harry could intellectually recall not meaning anything, but to his ears translated into an actual sentence.

Pausing in his inspection of a small rose bush, Harry turned to face the snake, who had also stopped what it was doing. Blinking in confusion for a moment, Harry speaks twice in one day for the first time in over a year.

"[Shaman?]" The snake tilts its head a little, similar to a person doing the same in confusion. Harry could almost imagine a tiny eyebrow being raised at him.

"{Do you not know of your heritage, Shaman? The tales of those who wield the power of nature's love and wrath?}" The youth shakes his head, noticing the other animals that tend to crowd him also come closer, making various sounds that he was fairly certain shouldn't have translated into the hushed whispers he was hearing.

And thus the scattered entities that live in Little Whinging Surrey slowly taught Harry what they knew of those that could communicate with animals. some species knew them as Shamans, others called them Warlocks, or Guardians, or a dozen other names. The one that Harry liked best though was when a Merlin referred to him as a 'druid'. Something about the term just sounded right to his ears, and that's the term he took to using in reference to himself and the other people that the animals were telling him about.

Apparently true Druids were very few and far between, though there were certain people out there who had inherited a portion of the ability to speak with all creatures, and were able to speak to one particular group. Examples given were the Parselmouths who could speak to snakes, and Aurans who were those who speak bird.

Harry also learned about something far more intriguing than simply the ability to converse with any living being as if in their natural tongue. He learned that he has access to magic. The animals didn't know any technical details, with most only knowing of Druids through a combination of family stories and genetic memory, and most referred to it by a different name (Ether, Nature's Will, and Channeling being the most common), but Harry had quickly become able to piece together what a dozen voices were telling him and translate it into words he could understand.

While it would have been nice, having some measure of clear instruction on what to do, Harry found it almost freeing to be the only person with the knowledge or power he now had at his fingertips. The Dursley's didn't know about it, nor had he heard of anyone else being able to converse with animals - though that Steve Irwin figure he once saw on the telly while Dudley was distracted might have been an exception - so it was something unique to Harry.

It took some time, though that was something he had in spades. When he wasn't doing yard-work, cooking (which Petunia had had him start doing at 7), or at school, Harry would sit in the backyard and meditate. After two weeks of this, he was able to tap into something within him.

It felt like static electricity, though far more powerful yet without the pain. The sensation fled as quickly as it came, though now that Harry knew what to look for, he was able to find it again within an hour. For another month, Harry merely practised reaching for the power and holding it, until it was always just beneath the surface, ready to be brought up at a moments notice.

After that was the slow process of learning to utilize the power. At first, nothing happened no matter what Harry tried to do. If he hadn't been so determined, he might have written off the talking animals as him finally going crazy, and given up. However, he was dead-set on magic being real, partly in the childish glee that only the young can have, and partly because it represented a certain power that nobody could take from him.

Finally, he seemed to figure out what the animals meant when they kept referring to magic as "nature's love and wrath". Pouring his power into a plant caused it to rapidly grow larger and healthier than what was naturally possible, and Harry was able to manipulate the very elements to a certain extent.

Causing breezes was fairly simple, as was creating small flames in the palms of his hands, but creating water proved very draining, and moving water or the earth seemed beyond him for now. After that, Harry tested out enhancing himself with his magic, to mixed results.

He could make himself a little stronger, and his skin a bit harder, but it was far from the image he had in his head of being able to take down Dudley and his gang single-handedly, so he didn't even try that. A bit of experimentation revealed that making plant material stronger was far easier than making himself stronger, and so Harry took to carrying a small walking stick with him everywhere he went.

It was from a nearby ash tree, and a slight push from his magic could cause the wood in his hand to come to life once more, lengthening and splitting off into branches. If a few new trees suddenly appeared in the local parks over the course of the next few months, nobody noticed or cared. With a little 'help' from Dudley and his goons, he also taught himself how to use the stick to defend himself, though that earned him another lecture and another weekend in the cupboard, this time without food or drink not that he needed it.

One of the few tricks he learned that Harry actually found indispensable was the fact that his magic could actually substitute food and sleep, though he needed those in order to replenish his magic. Interestingly, simply staying outside in nature would also do so, albeit at a far slower rate. He used this ability without hesitation, and it allowed him to quickly overcome what the near-malnutrition did to his body in earlier years, filling out his body and giving him a good growth spurt.

And so Harry Potter the young Druid lived the next few years, until a fateful day on his eleventh birthday. Thanks to his very active lifestyle and the self-sustenance ability, he was a bit larger than the average boy at 155 cm and 45 kg, though it was all wiry muscle. His eyesight had also slowly corrected itself thanks to the magic Harry channeled through his body near constantly, and he had stopped wearing glasses almost a year ago.

As for his clothes, the Dursleys still only gave him Dudley's 'hand-me-downs', though Harry had learned how to remove fabric from the articles and use magic to 'stitch' them back together, now far closer to his own size though still a bit loose. Extra material was kept in reserve to patch up any holes or tears his clothing accumulated.

A few days before his birthday, Harry experienced the second change in his life. It had started as a normal day: stop his morning meditation, get up, make breakfast, and retrieve the mail when it got to Number 4 and Dudley inevitably refused to get up from his own meal to grab it. It was at that last step that things went awry.

Most of the envelopes were the normal bills and letters from 'friends' of the Dursleys, as well as their family, but one of them was different. It felt a bit heavier, as well as made of rougher material. On the front are green letters, and on the back is a deep purple wax seal. The seal is a crest with four creatures and the words "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry", and on the front: Mr. H. Potter, The Cupboard under the Stairs, #4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.

 **~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~Druid~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: The First Buds**

 **~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~Druid~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

Harry tilts his head to the side in confusion. He had never received mail before, and certainly not from a school claiming to be for those with magic. Squinting a little, he can make out a faintly wavering purple glow around the, he's gonna guess parchment?

Detecting magic isn't something he has a lot of experience with, seeing as he's the only one with any magical power in the general vicinity of the Dursley Home. So far the only things he's 'seen' as far as magic goes are the faint green glows that trace any object he's injected his magic into, as well as an odd, dull red glow that surrounds Number 4 Privet Drive.

He's not sure what the red glow is, but given nobody else can see it, and the only other things that glow in the same way are the things he's touched with his magic, he can only guess that another magic user had placed it there for some reason. Seeing as it hasn't done anything since he noticed it, and he doesn't feel any different inside or outside of it, he can't really tell what it's purpose is. Back on track, this faint glow proves that the claim of being a school for magic isn't a scam. Probably.

Sliding it into a pants pocket, he places the rest of the mail on the dining table where the Dursleys are eating breakfast. A nice, large breakfast the they made Harry cook, despite him being far too young to be handling the oven. It doesn't bug Harry too much though, and so long as he doesn't mess up than the Dursley's don't bug him, so he considers it the closest to a win-win situation he can get in this house.

Silently moving from the dining room to the backyard where his usual odd assortment of companions await him, he sits down and pulls out the letter once more. The first to approach him this morning is a grey squirrel named Twitch due to his erratic twitching, as if always on the lookout for someone trying to sneak up on him.

"~Whatcha got there buddy? Got a letter? Letters are weird. If you wanna say something, say it person, that's what I say, yessiree. Who's it from?~" Twitch scampers up Harry's back onto his left shoulder, not that the young boy minds.

"{Will you leave the Speaker alone, Twitch? I swear, I should have eaten you ages ago. Would have saved me so many headaches}" the new voice, somewhat feminine, comes from Harry's right shoulder.

Seras is a barred grass snake that Harry had found close to two years ago, badly wounded after fighting another female snake over a possible mate. Harry healed her up, and in return she decided to stick by his side, and not eat any of his other animal friends. A decision she only sometimes regrets, such as when Twitch joined her as a permanent addition to Harry's life some four months ago as thanks for stopping a bored owl from eating him.

"[It's from a place called Hogwarts.]" Seras tilts her head and hums in curiosity, while Twitch bounces excitedly.

"~Oh, I know Hogwarts! Well, not me personally. My friend's cousin's mate's uncle's half-sister once met a squirrel that went to Hogwarts. Said there was a ton of tasty snacks, but also a lot of cats, and owls, and toads, and people, and cats. It's also apparently super easy to get lost there. Tons of good food though.~"

"{Yes, you mentioned that.}" Harry ignores the slight bickering taking place over his head and opens the letter, revealing two piece of paper, the first of which reads:

 _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

 _Dear Mr. Potter,_

 _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

 _Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress_

Turning to the other sheet Harry finds much the same. To summarize: he needs a couple sets of robes, a hat, gloves, several books that he's pretty sure he's never seen in a library, a wand, and a few more niche items such a phials and a cauldron. It also says something about first years not being allowed brooms, but he's not entirely sure if that's a joke or not.

"[Hmm. Think I should go?]" Harry doesn't exactly have a lot tying him to the Dursleys, and a chance to actually learn magic in an academic setting would be nearly too good to believe.

"~Oh yeah, definitely, it'll be great! Staying cooped up in one tree for too long isn't good for you, ya' know?~" Twitch bounces around a little more, while Seras hums in disdain.

"{As much as I hate to admit it, I agree with the idiot. We modern animals are too far descended from the ones who encountered true sorcery. The memories in our blood are too faint to help you learn your heritage. Proper instruction is needed if you wish to unlock your true potential.}"

Harry nods his head, seeing the point that the two are trying to make. Now there's just one question left, though he's pretty sure that neither of his companions would know the answer. How on earth is he supposed to respond to this letter?

 _Hogwarts Castle, Faculty Meeting_

Attending the quarterly faculty meeting is the usual crew: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore the headmaster, Minerva McGonagall the Transfiguration teacher and Head of House for Gryffindor, Filius Flitwick the Charms professor and Head of Ravenclaw, Severus Snape the Potions instructor and Head of Slytherin, Pomona Sprout the Herbology teacher and Head of Hufflepuff, Poppy Pomfrey the resident nurse, Sybil Trelawney the potentially insane Divination Teacher, Charity Burbage the Muggle Studies professor, Silvanus Kettleburn the Care of MAgical Creatures teacher, Aurora Sinistra the Astronomy teacher, Bathsheda Babbling the Ancient Runes teacher, Septima Vector the Arithmancy professor, and Quirinus Quirrell who is the new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher for this year.

A large gathering, yes, but a necessary one as it allows them to carefully craft the time schedules of the next year as well as double check that the curriculum in one class doesn't strain the students enough that they can't focus on the other classes. This is also the time where several ideas and requests are processed and either allowed or denied.

Usually, this process takes three full days to finish from start to end. This year seems to be a lucky one, as they have finished a full three hours faster than usual. No issues exist with timing even after being triple checked, and the coursework loads are all evenly spread across the year and classes. What few changes that were requested this year were all fairly minimal and either passed easily or disapproved of without much of a fight.

Even the 'special' measures that Dumbledore and the four heads of house had implemented over the summer had gone smoother than anticipated. This means that the normally stressed teachers are instead taking a moment to drink their coffee or tea, and socialize with people they haven't seen in a few months. One such pairing would be Minerva McGonagall and Filius Flitwick.

Not particularly close, due to normally wildly different schedules, the two have still built a cordial friendship over their positions as teachers, both having worked at Hogwarts for several years, and been students at the school themselves prior to becoming teachers. Most of the time they do talk it's about how their two branches of study are similar in function but wildly different in practice, today however they discuss the Hogwarts system of sending out letters to new students.

Minerva, as deputy headmistress, oversees the automatic creation and signing of the letters however it is Flitwick who knows the spellwork best as it is a charm, his specialty. Normally the entire process goes off fairly quietly, and they spend the time talking about prospective students. Yesterday however, they had something to actually discuss.

"It was the strangest thing. It was as if it didn't know what to write down, until it eventually settled on...well, you saw it as well as I." Minerva rubs her hand against her forehead to stave off the beginnings of a headache as Flitwick curls one side of his mouth downward in distaste.

"Indeed. It is...quite worrying to say the least. Have you told Albus?" a sigh is her first response.

"No. He is far too busy, what with Fudge constantly demanding his attention, not to mention the paperwork from all of his other positions. I'm not sure what to do about this though. I'm almost as busy as he is, seeing as i've taken on most of the actual paperwork for Hogwarts over the years."

The two teachers fall into a shared silence, neither particularly pleased with letting things sit as they are. Eventually, an idea pops into Flitwicks head. One that's so unusual, it might just work.

"Well, I think I have an idea about how to move forward." Intrigued, McGonagall leans in so that the far shorter of the two can whisper into her ears.

"Are you sure? What about your paperwork?" Flitwick waves off her concerns.

"All that's left are a few forms that will take all of about an hour to do. I've just been dragging my feet with them and enjoying what little of summer vacation we teachers get. I can easily finish them up after this meeting, which should give me plenty of time to figure the logistics of this little trip." looking far more relaxed, his fellow head of house leans back into her chair with a faint smile on her normally stern face.

"I see. I'll leave this in your hands than." And with that, plans that had been in motion for years were rather suddenly and unexpectedly undone.

Normally Albus Dumbledore might have overheard this conversation and inserted himself into it, finding out what they were discussing and coming up with a plan that would put everyone's worries to rest and continue with whatever grand scheme he has concerning the 'greater good' he loves talking about. Sadly for him though, he's currently rather busy at the moment, what with Sprout asking him for another greenhouse to be added to the gardens so that she can grow some of the rarer medicinal plants.

This discussion would take close to an hour to wrap up, by that time McGonagall and Flitwick would have already left for their respective offices, one to finish up some paperwork sooner than expected, the other to review her memory of the event that sparked this whole conversation in the first place while taking an old scrapbook out of her desk.

Just a few hours ago, a certain letter had risen into the air, premade with the years mass-sent letter, ready to be inscribed with the name and address of the next recipient on the list. The name came fast enough, and made noth teachers in the room pause in mild surprise. The enchanted quill hesitating for a solid minute before writing the address down, not to mention what the address itself was, turned that surprise into pure shock.

' _Mr. H. Potter, the cupboard under the stairs"_ was definitely not what either had expected to read. 'Mister Potter who lives in the bedroom on the second floor', maybe. 'Mister Potter who lives in the attic' would have been weird but explainable as converting attics to bedrooms has been a tradition for generations when concerning either the eccentric or less well-to-do of society. They were even marginally prepared for it to read 'Mister H. Potter, Merlin's Castle' though admittedly that was only because the idea had been tossed around by some news outlets and novels sold for young females.

So it was with much trepidation that the two schemed together on how to move forward with the information that Harry James Potter, saviour of the wizarding world, lived under the stairs in his relatives home. Obviously someone would have to investigate. If it were some sort of mistake, they would merely double-check the charms holding the ancient process of sending letters and fix whatever spell had messed up.

If it weren't, well that's why they were investigating. As Flitwick finishes the last of his paperwork as quickly as he can while still ensuring quality work, he begins to plan the next day. After all, it's not everyday you visit a child celebrity.

 _The next day, Private Drive_

Having reached the consensus that Harry should go to Hogwarts, but not in how he was supposed to tell them of his acceptance or request information on where to procure his supplies, the unlikely trio spent the rest of the day in relative silence and waited.

Harry because that was how he learned to deal with things he didn't understand. Wait a while and see if something happens or he thinks of a new way to approach the situation. Twitch was really only quiet because Seras had threatened to swing him from her mouth by the tail if he didn't shut up. A bit excessive, but effective apparently as the most he'd said since were a few small jokes here and there.

The Dursley adults - at this point Harry didn't even think of them as family in his head, not that they had done anything to prevent that - had given Harry a list of chores to be done by the time the got home, and then promptly left. It took Harry a few seconds to recover from his broom cupboard door being slammed open at six in the morning, but eventually he remembered a passing comment made last night after he got his letter.

Today the trio of Dursleys were headed off to the zoo. They had gone five weeks ago, but it had gone south for...reasons.

 _ **Flashback!**_

Harry stood, looking in at a display showing a brazilian boa constrictor. The sign next to it read: bred in captivity, which Harry found sad. All living things should be free, even if he isn't exactly what he would call 'free' given his living situations. His cousin had tapped on the glass but then stomped off to complain to his parents when the arge snake didn't so much as twitch in response.

"[I apologize for the fat boy. He's a bit of an ass.}"

Harry wouldn't normally use such crude language, but having been awoken at six in the morning to take part in this expedition because the Dursleys had forgotten to hire a nanny for the day soured his mood. The snake doesn't seem to mind, and even raises it's head to tilt it curiously at him.

"{A Speaker? I've never met one in person before.}" Harry nods, having gotten a similar response from most animals he's met.

"[I prefer the term Druid, but I suppose it doesn't really matter.]"

This conversation went fairly amicably for another minute or two before Dudley noticed his weird cousin making weird noises that sounded like a language but certainly weren't english, and the snake hissing back seemingly in response. His first response, rather than questioning the scene, is to shove Harry to the side and gawk at the now very awake snake. HE shouts and slaps the glass, demanding the snake do tricks for his amusement. Meanwhile, a flash of red-hot anger stabs through Harry.

Harry isn't usually one for negative emotions, or emotions in general, but one thing that always infuriates him is when people view animals and other living beings as beneath them simply because their human. So not only being pushed by his snotty relative, but then seeing said waste of a life-form tormenting the harmless snake sent HArry's anger through the roof.

Thankfully, he manages to control himself before he does anything stupid like smacking the idiot on the head with his walking stick. Sadly, his magic took just half a second longer to get under wraps, with it lashing out wildly in response to his emotions. A stray tendril of magic grazes the glass of the window separating Dudley and the deadly snake. Glass that then instantly vanishes, meaning Dudley - who had leaned against the glass hard to try and get a better look at the boa - fell face first into the now open exhibit.

Things got a bit hectic from there. People screamed and ran in terror. The snake escaped. Dudley got out unharmed but undoubtedly traumatised, and of course HArry was blamed for the entire thing. while it is true that it is technically his fault, he would have preferred that his quote unquote 'family' had taken more than half a second to not only immediately blame him for the event without evidence, but also blame him for literally everything that went wrong from then on for the rest of the trip. Like how the stall that Dudley wanted a popular snack from had a long line. Or the fact that an hour later the temperature dropped and it started to rain, as foretold in the weather forecast this morning, that none of the Dursleys listened to since they were eating the breakfast that Harry had been told to make for them.

In the end, Harry got shoved into his cupboard without dinner - after being forced to make dinner for the others of course - and was threatened with extreme violence if he ever did anything of the sort again. While he could agree that he should learn to control his emotions better, he still wonders why his relatives reacted so unfavourably to a very basic display of accidental magic. Almost as if they knew magic existed, but were scared of it. Oh well, that's something to think over later.

 _ **End Flashback!**_

Standing up and crawling out of his hovel of a bedroom, Harry stretches until his back pops. He then lets out a low whistle while walking to a bathroom. Flicking on a light, he takes a half second to examine himself and make sure he didn't look totally unpresentable for today's work. Petunia would have his hide if she came back to her neighbors saying he walked about looking like a slob.

His pitch black hair was lengthy from not being cut once in the last ten years he's spent in the presence of the Dursley's. Oddly enough, it wasn't as long as it could have been, being only about two feet long. Harry had noticed that it should have been longer, but he just assumed that it was magic and didn't question it too hard.

Said magical locks were still a bit unruly, but fell down in shaggy waves that somewhat obscure the right side of his face, letting his eyes pierce through easily enough though his scar is far more concealed. He idly traces the lightning bolt styled scar. The phrase "lightning bolt" here is used not to describe a simple zigzag line, but rather the branching twists and curves of a realistic bolt of pure energy, frozen in time and transplanted upon his brow. He wishes it would fade over time instead of remaining slightly red and raised as it does, but at least it's interesting and adds character.

In terms of clothing, he's fairly plain. A solid coloured tee, black jeans with tears at the knees from his constant activity, and a basic brown belt to hold the pants up. Overall, he's incredibly plain with the exceptions of his scar and oddly lengthed hair. Brushing his hair and teeth takes just a few seconds, and by that time he'd figured out his plan for the day: a whole lot of nothing. After doing his 'chores' of course. Wouldn't want to risk finding out how serious Vernon was when making that threat of bodily harm.

This plan was immediately thrown out the window when the doorbell rang. Harry tilts his head in confusion, his two companions join him on his shoulders. The whistle he had let out earlier was to wake them, and usually it takes them a few minutes to get moving.

"~I wonder who it could be? Could it be the fat schmucks and the twig? Where are they?~"

Making sure his slightly torn, baggy blue shirt was in place, Harry moves to the front door. His eyes widen a little as he can practically taste the magic radiating off of whoever's is on the other side.

Clearly whoever's is on the other side is also magical, though his magical signature is wildly different from what Harry expected. Where Harry's is a light green that slowly shifts and turns, coiling around him protectively and flowing out from him slowly but try powerfully, the newcomers is a soft blue light that burns brightly but remains completely stable aside from the occasional pulse.

Composing himself, Harry opens the door, expecting to see some sort of grand wizard, or other Tolkien figure ripped straight from the books. What he was not expecting was a figure with a grown mans face but a boys body, almost a full foot beneath the young druid in terms of height.

"Hello there, my name is Filius Flitwick. Are you Harry Potter?"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~Druid~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 **AN:** Be me. Sit down at six in the afternoon Friday, crack knuckles, prepare to write. Get a phone call. It's boss. Need to go in to work to fix some mess a newer kid had made. Sigh, but do it for the money. Get back at ten o'clock. Decide to finish up the chapter. Sit down, get another phone call. It's a friend, who needs help with a project of theirs. Takes two hours. Decide to finish chapter Saturday morning. Have done this before and while stressful can still be done. Sleep. Wake up to a knock on the door at six in the morning. Is next door neighbor complaining about a dog. When my house doesn't even own a dog. Takes an hour to calm them down. Try to go back to sleep. Get a phone call from work. Asks if can come in to cover a sick person. My day off would be interrupted, but I need the money and agree. Can just post chapter later today. Takes ten hours because some idiot spread a virus through the work system half-way through the day. Go drinking with a friend to unwind. Get back late at night, prepared to slam an energy drink and finish the chapter. Get writers block over the stupidest little things. Say fuck it, it'll just be a day late. Wake up Sunday. Remember it's easter. Oh fuck. Spend the rest of the damn day trying to appease various family members. Catch up on the births, deaths, and marriages of family. Just barely manage to finish the last third of the chapter after getting home at midnight. Post without doing more than cursory spell-checking. Unenthusiastic promise to 'see' readers next week for HAR 35, assuming Life doesn't try to fuck me. Again.

Edit (4/25): Hey guys, so sorry about this whole mess *points to text above*. I think it explains itself, but I want to touch on something that I got a review about yesterday and just got a moment to read. Reviewer/reader "mumimeanjudy" pointed out the description of Harry i gave in this chapter, and how it's not the same as the one I gave last chapter. To explain myself simply: I was really fucking tired, and the file I had opened on chapter 1 to use as reference for chapter 2 (to make sure I didn't repeat stuff, and I could have just pulled up the chapter i posted but that took twice as long to pull up and i was feeling lazy), was a pre-final proofread edition that I had meant to delete. Meaning a few differences were present, like I hadn't actually described Harry in that section yet, having originally planned to do it in this chapter. I've gone through and changed the relevant portions of this chapter but I have to say that I probably wouldn't have noticed if a reviewer hadn't pointed it out. So thanks, man. Or woman, or whatever you identify as.

Signed,

A Very Tired Ghost Dragon


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